The Lost Soul of Leila
by WritersOfTheRain
Summary: Exploratory story of the life of Leila and pain and depravity of the unrequited love between her and Christian when they were together. May continue to explore this story after their breakup and on into Leila's discovery of his unexpected relationship with Ana.
1. Chapter 1

The footsteps sound closer. Closer... I dare not raise my head for I am as he has requested.

Calm.

Docile.

Above me, the face that may never look upon mine the way I worship his.

A warm embrace, a divine kiss I may never find. Even the floor upon which I kneel appears eternal in his presence.

His feet are beautiful. Were I permitted, blanketed in kisses they would be, utterly and eternally mine, never to leave, always to stand over me.

A harsh voice speaks and I'm in heaven and hell at once.

"Stand up."

I fear him whilst simultaneously needing him in ways my body cannot understand. May I raise my eyes? Will you allow me to gaze upon that seductive face and swallow the beauty of those lips?

One look.

One look into those tantalizing eyes, that's all I ask.

I can't help it; I want him.

I want him to see me - to see the depth of my desire.

I know it's wrong, I know he'll be upset, but I dive recklessly, swimming vehemently through the waves of blue that shore up the doorway to his soul. And I'm in heaven. A faultless, guileless, soaring piece of heaven. It's the longest two seconds of my entire life.

I hold my breath, awaiting his sneer.

"You know the rules. Turn around."

My eyes leave his and I return to the dark. The seething depression that surrounds me only abates in the knowledge that he is here. And that he will soon be touching me, in his own way.

I welcome the strikes. They break up the perilous black, offering a small but significant portal to the light. I hear his breath heaving behind me - it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. I would lay here all day to let that musical sigh waft melodically through my ears.

His hand strokes my backside smoothly and tenderly in between spanks - and I know that deep down he loves me the way I love him. He has to. From the moment we met we've been drawn to each other; inseparable by the realities of time and space. He is always with me and I always with him.

We are as one.

But it kills me inside. It kills me that his face may never acknowledge what his blackened and beaten heart already knows.

He may never return a loving gaze, a romantic kiss, or a hopeful laugh.

He will always be in that prison; that dark and sinister cave where he was brutally slashed and buried so many years ago.

He will always be poisened by the black ones - the way I am without him.

Tears decorate my sweaty cheeks. It's not the pain; the pain is part of the package. The pain is what brings our love alive, into the light, out of the obscurity it obsesses in.

No. The pain will always be a part of me. It feeds me, wills me to go on. To connect in the only way we know how.

He penetrates me forcefully, my heart bursting, my senses tingling.

The pain.

The catalyst of my tears is far worse, far deeper. It lies defeated at the base of my soul, ready to give up but desperately grasping to hang on just one millisecond longer.

Then another.

Then another.

For him. For him to see. To understand.

To understand how I'm inextricably cabled into his soul, fueling it, healing it with selfless electricity. His feelings for me run deep - deeper than the well that holds the demons of his past that he has not the strength to acknowledge.

So you see, his hands will never hurt me. His words will never break me, and the absence of his loving embrace will never kill me. But this small fact is slowly and methodically destroying me:

He may never know.


	2. Chapter 2

I rest quietly on the small cushion that cradles my red, pulsating behind. I sit at the breakfast nook, doing my best to eat heartily the vegetable omelet and potatoes from my menu of food choices. There's only one day left here. Only one day left in paradise before this weekend of dramatic bliss is over and I must return to the dank, stingy life I lead.

Then five days of darkness before heaven returns.

He enters the kitchen in nothing but a towel and my eyes can't resist the magnetic appeal of his naked chest. To touch him just one more time. To feel the ripple of his muscles; the hardness of his pecks… surely the darkness would stay away forever if I could be with him just one more time before I must leave.

He barely glances at me, but sits nearby and mutters "Good girl". It pleases him when I eat breakfast. No matter how much my stomach resists, I must make him happy; follow his rules. It means everything.

He doesn't need to know that the food rarely stays down. I have no room for nourishment when I'm with him – I am already filled to the brim with every word, movement, and punishment that emanates from this Dominant I have given all for.

"Eggs and pancakes, please."

My skin tingles at the sound of his voice. This sound could loop on an endless playlist for the rest of my life and never lose its appeal.

I tuck my hair behind my ear. He grasps my hand.

Shivers run down my spine. My food has become a spot of black in my vision- all I see is the feel of him, the sound of him, the smell of him.

"Are you okay today?"

My eyes shoot open. Such an expression of concern has never been communicated before. I feel my bones warm under his gaze – can't I just look upon them? Just one time? Return his expression of love I'm so desperate to view this very moment?

But I can't. I can't chance it. My ass is already bruised and aching. I can't take anymore just yet; not even for him.

I slowly nod my head, choking back the tears of disappointment that flood my unrequited eyes. How can I go on like this? How can I continually experience love that will never be recognized?

He drops my hand. "Good".

Cold Mr. Grey – the Mr. Grey I know – is back. Much to my surprise, I relax. This is what I'm used to. This is what I know.

I excuse myself and walk over the kitchen counter where his iPod sits. I turn on "Crazy" by Beyonce. I glance at him but he is lost in his breakfast and no doubt thoughts of business matters that seem to constantly plague his psyche. I sing the words in my mind, hoping the desires of my heart can stretch across the vast, empty, deserted land that lies between my pure love and his depraved inner world.

"You got me crazy…you got me crazy in love…"


	3. Chapter 3: The Song of Us

What will I find

If I dig that deep

What will I discover

When I fall asleep

If I let myself dive

To the dungeon, the lair

Hanging, clinging

To hollow thin air

Where my mind starts to morph

And my brain loses sight

Where the sound of loud engines

Repeats without right

Where my hands cling tightly

To the sides of my head

And the devils and demons

Try to sing me to bed

What lies there

In the mold and the dust

In the cantankerous filth

Built of saliva and rust

Is it me, is it you?

Or some old worn out pair

Of useless dull tweezers

Of deep and dead stares

It will eat me and crush

Or so I do think

My life would collapse

My conscience would sink

I'd be nothing left

But a pool of hot blood

Seeping, creeping,

Infecting the mud

But maybe down deep

Where the hell meets the high

The worst of all beings

Saunters on by

Depraved and alone

Shackled and shorn

But real nonetheless

Alive but reborn

At the end of the day

The putrid and beau

Are one, not the other

The steam in the snow

They settle in slowly

Deep in their skin

They both always lose

They both always win

Perhaps that is all

Perhaps that is it

The darkest of crud

Births the tastiest pit

Maybe the core

Of your lofty raised tents

Is nothing more than

An old rusty chain-linked fence

For the difference that lies

Between you and tween me

Is nothing more than

The insidious 'we'


End file.
